


All Grown Up

by zarabithia



Category: DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: 100 women, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-31
Updated: 2006-05-31
Packaged: 2019-03-09 14:49:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13483755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: An adult Lian Harper encounters Dick Grayson.





	All Grown Up

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, I'm going to special hell for writing this, and if you read it, you're probably going there too.

 Everyone always tells Lian how much like her father she is.

They always say it so proudly too, as though the alternative is automatically becoming an assassin. They might be right on both accounts, but Lian’s never been stupid enough to forget for one second that she is her mother’s daughter, too. Moreover, she believes with all her heart that it is Cheshire’s blood that first plants the seed of deceit when Lian spots Dick Grayson across the room at Chumley’s Bar.

Her father, after all, would chastise her and remind Lian that familial bonds go much deeper than blood. But it’s been almost two decades since she’s called Dick Grayson family and almost a decade since they had last seen each other.  

Dick Grayson might be the world’s second greatest detective, but the ass that has rested on his lap at age eight looked nothing like the ass that squirms across his lap tonight. Nor had the courteous appearance at her graduation afforded him close inspection of the her boobs that she currently is thrust into his eager face.

A lot can change in eight years. After all, eight years ago, she hadn’t had the tats or the piercings and she definitely hadn’t had the red hair. 

Lian likes to use her tats and piercings as a tool to sort the masses of horndog men that always seem to hang around. The lesser men are intimidated by them; the stupid men are turned on by them. The good ones are somewhere in the middle, though Lian doesn’t meet enough of those to make anyone in her family happy. 

Dick Grayson, of course, is turned on by the color of her hair. She almost tells him that he really shouldn’t be excited by the product of yet another Lian Harper identity crisis. 

But he’s missed all the other Lian identity crises, so she doesn’t think he can fully appreciate the significance of her newly red hair color.

His fingers certainly give it an honest effort, though. From the first bump and grind, through the car ride back to her place, and during the whole time they’re fucking, his fingers never leave her locks. Always touching. . . always caressing. . . 

She knows he isn’t thinking about her - Christ, they just met, from his perspective - and she kinda wants to ask _who_ he _is_ thinking of. But she shakes the question out of her head as she shakes out of her pants. Because Lian is partially afraid that if she asks _that_ question, she won’t be able to prevent the others that keep bouncing around inside of her head.

_Where’s the ring?_

_Why’d she leave you this time?_

_Jimmy’s the same age I was when you ditched us, right?_

_Is he going to lose you to?_

_Is he more important than I was?_

_Did it ever occur to you that I would miss you?_

_Didn’t you care?_

_Did you and Dad ever fuck?_

_Were you still fucking when you left?_

Lian pushes the questions out of her head as she pushes Dick down onto the bed. Most men usually give at least a pretense of wanting to be on top, but Dick doesn’t. As he falls backwards, Lian notices the wealth of scars he’s earned from a lifetime of fighting. She has scars too, but for now most of them are well hidden beneath and between the tattoos, and a person would have to know they were there to even be able to spot them. 

Especially the one from Tanner. 

Her fingers trail the scars marring his flesh and the act appears to make him feel self conscious. "I’m clumsy," he offers as an explanation, pushing her hand away. 

Well, fuck _that._ Lian replaces the hand Dick pushed away with her mouth. What man has ever pushed away a willing mouth?

Despite all evidence to the contrary, Dick Grayson turns out to be a mere man, after all. After a sigh, he gives in and allows Lian’s lips and tongue to wrap around each scar without further protest. When her teeth pick at the imperfections, Dick gasps seemingly out of pleasure instead of pain. 

As for Lian, she tries to enjoy herself too. For most women, it wouldn’t have been a difficult task. Dick Grayson is only three years younger than her father, but he looks decades younger than that. He is certainly still every bit the superheoine prize possession that his reputation suggests.

But Lian isn’t really a superheoine.

Still, she can easily overlook that detail - men who go looking for one night stands don’t have any right to claim moral high ground.

Rather, as she pushes herself down onto Dick, it’s the persistence of a memory that should be forgotten that keeps her from truly enjoying Dick Grayson, Sex God. It’s the memory of being four years old at a diner in New York. Uncle Wally and Aunt Donna were still alive. . . her father still sat comfortably next to Dick. . . Lian was excited to be moving into her new home . . . most damning of all, Dick’s arms were wrapped around her waist while she sat on his lap. Lian remembers how safe, warm, and loved she had felt at the time. 

She’s technically on his lap _now_ and no matter how hard she ties, no matter how fast she rides Dick, no matter how tightly she squeezes her eyes, that one memory won’t go away.

When they’re finished, he asks for a name. Lian almost tells him a comforting lie instead of the truth, because part of her really is her father’s daughter. That part wants to spare Dick Grayson any pain she can, even though he doesn’t deserve it.

But another part - the part she chooses to listen to - wants to hurt him. "Lian."

"That’s a pretty name. I know someone -" And just like that, it clicks for him. All the little familiarities, all the things that haven’t changed since she was eight years old – the nose, the eyes, the shape of her mouth, the curve of her face - add up and an expression of disbelief comes over his face, even as he scrambles to get away from her. " _Lian?"_

"Long time, no see, _Uncle_ Dick," she says calmly. 

" _Lian?_ No. How- why -" He shakes his head. "Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have. . . _God_."

"I thought you recognized me." It is a blatant lie, of course. 

" _No!_ No. If I had. . . I’m _sorry_. . . I should have known. . . _No."_

He looks so lost, afraid, horrified, and alone. Lian doesn’t have a lot of sympathy for those emotions - she’s known her fair share of them. Moreover, the utter pain that Dick appears to be in actually makes her happy, and she wonders if that was her whole reason for doing this in the first place.

It might have been, Lian recognizes. She isn't sure whether it's worse to have fucked Dick because she was attracted to him - like Grace swears her father was - or because she wanted to hurt him, an act Lian knows her mother would have approved.    
  
It's not the first time she's felt like a piece of taffy being stretched between her parents.  It's not even the first time she's resented them.  But it is the first time she's ever wanted to be more like her mother than her father.  
  


 


End file.
